Like Only Lovers Can
by quod scripsi scripsi
Summary: Exploration into the relationship of FemShep and Garrus, from before ME1 to beyond ME2. Rated M for language and various adult themes. Chapter 8 up.
1. Research

_Right, another FemShep&Garrus story? Yes! There can never be too many of those, if you ask me... This one will follow the events in ME2 although not obediently (taking artistic liberties at times), perhaps jumping at times to ME1 happenings since it isn't in chronological order always, and even beyond ME2 eventually. I try to keep characters as IC as possible, of course within my interpretation of what's IC for them._

_Please read & review! I love feedback... Critique welcome too, also harsh critique! Just... make it constructive and not like "lol your story sucks" or "I hate your Shepard", but give me something to work on! It is my first fanfic, English isn't my native tongue and I don't have a beta, so if you notice any inconsistencies, feel free to point them out and I will correct them._

_There will be language and smutty smexiness of varying degrees throughout the fic, so if you don't like that, leave now. (but since you are browsing the M section, I guess that's what you came looking for, anyway...)_

_Anyway! Enjoy, and R&R!_

* * *

Chapter 1

She turned off the shower, stepping out of the pool of water formed at her feet and reached for a towel placed on the nearby sink. It was coarse against her skin, thinned and worn out from the rough chemical washing used aboard to save water. She made a mental note to add 'fluffy towels' to the requisitions list for their next trip to Illium. Life on a military vessel didn't allow many luxuries, but she could have her small everyday comforts, such as new towels every now and then. She hung the towel to dry and stepped out of the bathroom, leaving moist footprints in her wake as she made it to the locker. Grabbing a large-sized men's military issue t-shirt to wear for the night, she then settled under the sheets of her comfy double bed. Cerberus sure knew the value of a good mattress in keeping the crew well rested and ready for action.

"Cabin lights at 5 percent, bedside lights at 50 percent." After a small pause, she added "Open the ceiling shutters."

As the lighting adjusted to her preferences, she reached out to the bedside table and shuffled through a small pile of datapads. Report from Miranda, another from Kasumi. Those could be dealt with tomorrow, right now Shepard wanted something to take her mind _off _the missions at hand. Such as the books she had picked up from Fables of the Far Rim, an asari-ran bookstore at the Citadel that specialised in literature of all sorts from the all known sentient species of the galaxy. The shopkeeper Yirina had praised Earth's fascinating mythologies to no ends, and had almost forgotten to charge Shepard for her purchase. Eventually, she had managed to depart the store possessing a datapad loaded with two famous turian classics. _On Tactical Warfare, _by General Gladius Pacitum and Captain Valea Pacitum, according to the introductory text 'a must-read for every rookie in the turian military', this textbook was originally written 692 CE and revised 815 CE by the general's granddaughter, after the Krogan Rebellion had been put to an end. This volume didn't tickle Shepard's curiosity at the moment, though, so she clicked open the next item on the datapad. _The Good Household - How To Make It Work With Your New Clan, _a title intended for young and confused turian maidens of Palaven trying to find a husband or planning their new lives with a husband of their choosing, or of their parents' choosing. It wasn't _exactly _what she had been looking for, but given relationships to other species weren't particularly appreciated by many powerful turian clans, most disowning any youths unfortunate enough to fall in love with an asari, let alone a human, it wasn't like she had a huge selection of advice books to choose from. It would have to do, she didn't have time to wade through all the extranet search results, either, to filter the endless porn from genuine advice. Not that the porn was _useless_, of course, it just didn't meet _all _her requirements for advice.

Shepard flipped open the index page and glanced over it. 'Pre-marital relationships', 'Courting a possible mate', 'Acquiring parental and clan approval' (this chapter was 200 pages long, Shepard noted), 'Financial arrangements', 'Arranged marriages' (another 150 pages), 'Xenophiliac affairs' (just five pages)... She decided to save the worst for later and picked the chapter on pre-marital relationships. It confirmed what she heard from Garrus previously, purely sexual affairs were commonplace for both male and female turians when in service and not frowned upon at all. Falling in love with a crewmate, however, wasn't approved of, but exceptions happened all the time. It could work out if both families and clans found the relationship beneficial. Arrangements for marriage would be done as soon as agreement was reached, and the relationship would be made official as soon as both the bride and the groom were out of mandatory military service. If the clans didn't fancy the bride or groom to-be, the two lovers would be separated and sent off to serve in different units for the remaining time of their service. Shepard learnt, that the clans could hold this sort of power over the personal affairs of turian _adults _until they were recognised as full citizens... which could be until their 30th birthday. She felt sorry for Garrus, who had mentioned the pressure his father put on him many times regarding career choices, but then thought perhaps most turians felt differently about their customs. Perhaps they were content and happy with the tradition, since not too many had made the decision to rebel against it even after the floodgates to foreign, more liberal cultural influences had been opened. Most humans, too, preferred to live in human colonies and follow their own traditions instead of embracing foreign cultures with open arms.

_Well, not that it matters, anyway... I doubt he has any great desires to go back to his father and clan. Not after all that's happened._

She flipped back to the index and chose the chapter she dreaded to read. She wasn't surprised to read that affairs outside the turian species were not approved of at all by most, but were regarded as perversions and anyone falling for a non-turian was considered a deviant at best and mentally disturbed at worst. No wonder the turians she had noticed displaying interest in other species tended to look like outsiders. Well... except for that old geezer at the Citadel, but he probably had enough power to shut down any commentators.

She sighed and put the datapad back on the table, and ordered the lights down. This wasn't as useful as she had hoped, none of it applied to her current situation with a certain turian. Time to sleep, she'd have to be up and running at 0700 hours. Wrapping the blanket around her tighter, she gazed out of the ceiling window at the passing stars trying not to think of anything in particular, until her lids closed and she drifted away to sweet oblivion...

_She walked up to the main battery, waiting outside the door for a moment before entering. Garrus was seated on top of the console, dressed in casual clothing, holding two glasses of what looked like champagne (but surely was an imitation)._

"_Hey, glad you came by. Have you got a minute?"_

_Shepard's lip curled in a half-smirk, and she turned to close and lock the battery door to prevent any interruptions. She turned to meet the turian's intent gaze, but couldn't help a glance down at his naked chest plates that shimmered a coppery sheen in the red light of the battery ('_whatever happened to his clothes?_'), down his toned, muscular abdomen, down to his... spiky... no, thorned rose? Her eyes darted back up, to see him now standing in front of Shepard, holding a giant rose covering his shaft, mandibles flared wide in what Shepard recognised as a grin, and he winked at her. He put his right arm around her shoulder and turned them to look over the balcony in front of them ('_where am I again?_'), motioning to the vast fields of green below and tropical forests in the horizon. The air was filled with smells of fruits and grass and animal sounds she couldn't recognise and strange music playing somewhere in the village..._

"_Look at it. Isn't it beautiful? There's nothing like home." Garrus interrupted her daydreaming._

"_It is, yeah. Not that different from Earth, from what I've seen in vids. Except it's warmer here and the vegetation looks a bit weird, of course..."_

"_Look over there", he said proudly, pointing at what looked like a construction site at an early stage a couple of hundred metres away, "My father already ordered the construction of our home to begin. We will discuss the details of decoration and room layout with him tomorrow."_

_She smiled up at him and his hand came up to caress her silvery mandibles ('_well this is new'_) before he pressed his forehead to hers affectionately. Shepard's manicured claws sneaked up to caress his fringe and he let out a deep growl, snatching her up in his arms and turning to drop her on the bed (_'where did the fields go?_'). She growled back, mandibles wide, as he pushed her down on her back and straddled her, all the while caressing her waist and chest, working his way up to her fringe. She closed her eyes as he ran a clawed finger along the fresh tattoos on her face._

"_My clan's tattoos complement your own beautifully, did you know that?"_

_Shepard didn't find an answer, but settled for purring contently as his hands touched her all over. Her own hands were busy with Garrus' waist, pulling down his pants. She opened her eyes again to look at her mate, only to scream out in horror as she was faced with the gleaming blue, but empty eyes of a turian husk. She struggled and pushed the husk off her, frantically looking for her shotgun. She was standing at the Council Chambers, naked and without a gun, a hundred Garrus-husks approaching from every direction._

"_Join me", me... me... me... me... me... the echo rang around the hall a hundred times. She fell into a combat stance and braced herself for impact, failing to figure a way out. She was going to go down fighting. The husks approached fast, one already grabbing Shepard by the arm, another reaching for her leg..._

She jumped up to sit in her bed with a deep gasp, covered in cold sweat. She looked around her cabin wildly, fists swinging at any husks nearby for five seconds, until she realised she was still in the comfort of her own bed and there were no husks (and no Garrus, for that matter) anywhere nearby. Falling back on the bed, she sighed, grabbed a pillow and wiped her forehead on it. Hiding underneath the pillow for a moment just breathing, she finally got up and sat on the edge of the bed.

"Cabin lights 75%. EDI, what's the time?"

"Six thirty-seven AM, Shepard."

"Right. Thanks, EDI. Oh, can you turn on the coffee machine in the canteen? Two cups, I'll be there in 15 minutes."

"Certainly, Shepard. Logging you out" EDI replied after a moment's pause.

She got up and walked to the bathroom to splash her face with cold water and brush her teeth. Shepard gazed at her reflection in the mirror and ran her hands through her short hair, untangling the biggest knots that she had managed to form trashing around in her sleep. Her casual suit was where she left it last night, in a messy pile on her office chair. She quickly pulled on the black pants and white shirt, and sat down to close the clasps of her boots.

She was in the mess hall in 10 minutes, blankly staring at the coffee machine that would take a few more minutes to brew her a steaming cup of precious elixir of life. It was going to be a long day.


	2. Stressed

_Thank you, my three reviewers! (so far?) And thanks to everyone who favourites etc. this story. It got me finishing this chapter ahead of what I planned. I fixed a few little things mentioned in chapter 1, too. I hope you enjoy this one, too... I feel sorry for poor Garrus, what I have to put him through._

* * *

Chapter 2

Shepard sat down at the mess table with a mug of coffee in her hands, sipping the piping hot liquid as quickly as she possibly could, eager to get some caffeine into her system. She glanced at the two datapads she had brought down from her cabin and picked Miranda's report for reading. It recommended to recruit the Veteran and the Justicar at the first opportunity and reminded that Miranda's sister's situation was an urgent matter that should be dealt with. Shepard decided to set the course for Illium next to get the other matter bothering her out of the way, too.

Joker arrived to the mess, getting himself a thermos full of coffee to take to the cockpit. He hollered a greeting to Shepard and ducked behind the counter to raid the ration boxes for some crumbling breakfast to annoy EDI with, but got no reply out of her. He rolled his eyes and walked up to her, giving her a poke on the shoulder.

"What's up, skipper? al-Jilani put out another fine piece of reporting? 'Commander Shepard farted, humanity's reputation lost in a stinking cloud!'" he tried to imitate the annoying reporter.

"Morning, Joker. I'm thinking of our next move, is all. Set course to Illium, and update the supplies list with what you need."

Joker pursed his lips, disappointed at the commander's lack of response to his jokes this morning, but nodded before making his way out of the mess with the thermos and a packet of crackers in his hands.

"Alright then. See ya, captain."

Shepard waved after him and moved on to Kasumi's report. Upcoming party on Bekenstein that needed some serious gatecrashing. A giant golden statue of Saren involved. This had got to be a good distraction. They'd just have time to get there after Miranda's little excursion was finished and they had the Justicar on board, unless the Reapers decided to skip the bullshit and attack right away.

She gulped down her cooled-down coffee and her mind wandered to Garrus. After they had picked him up on Omega, he'd been full of stories and happy to see Shepard, despite what mess he'd been physically _and_ mentally. Now the turian spent most of his time hiding in the main battery, coming out to pick up meals from Gardner, and probably to take the occasional leak and shower, too, but Shepard wasn't there to witness it, of course.

_I wonder if it's something I said. But he has seemed so happy, so relieved to be here, excited about our little banter... Maybe it's a turian way of dealing with PTSD, first act like nothing happened during the past two years and then bam! Crawl up in a little black ball of emotion and ignore the world around you. It's not like the ship guns need to be worked on all the time..._

She rolled her eyes and got up, making her way to the coffee machine for another mugful, but found the machine empty. Damn Joker, he never remembered to brew another load after finishing the old.

* * *

"Commander, we're approaching Illium. Docking in 75 minutes. Actually, we only got about half an hour to the docks, but the control tower tells me there was 'an accident' and half the docking zone is closed down, so we gotta fly around waiting for a ... shit, EDI, it's just my cup... " the comm crackled down and Shepard exchanged a _look_ with Miranda.

She was seated opposite to the biotic in her office, going over the details of their upcoming missions on Illium. Shepard was re-reading the dossier on the Justicar, feeling slightly worried whether this formidable woman would be willing to join her mission. It sounded like she had plenty of missions to deal with already. Miranda was looking up something on the extranet, focused on her holo screen. She inhaled sharply and turned her attention to Shepard.

"Commander, we should demand immediate docking as we reach Illium. You're a Spectre, even on Illium you should not need to wait because the traffic control fails," she blurted out frustratedly.

Shepard regarded Miranda for a moment.

"I understand you want to be there in time to save your sister, but I am not sure if they appreciate Normandy crashing on someone else's docking point. But we can try," she said, lifting her hand to her comm, "Joker, try pulling the Spectre-card will you? Urgent Council business, naturally of the classified sort."

"Aye aye, commander" the comm beeped, before going silent again.

"Anyway, is this clear? First we locate and rescue your sister with me, you and Jacob, then I go look for the Justicar with Jacob and Garrus. You deal with the supplies in the meantime. Gardner had a list of his own, good luck with that."

Miranda nodded, "All clear, commander."

"Great, better get dressed for the occasion then," Shepard activated her comm again, "Jacob, suit up. We're going to a family reunion. 40 minutes."

"Black tie or casual, Commander? See ya at the airlock. Taylor out."

Shepard smirked, and nodded to Miranda before getting up and leaving the XO's office. That was the easy part of today's work done. Now for the hard bits.

* * *

He leaned on the controls, taking in a deep breath as he went over a calculation in his head, step by step. There was an error somewhere, the computer had informed him, but he had told EDI to kindly fuck off before it had had the chance to offer actual help. The AI had lingered there for a moment, but Garrus had glared the irritating hologram away. Or so he liked to think. He was perfectly able to do his job, he didn't need EDI nannying him around. Besides, EDI was going to test-drive every calibration on a virtual battery before it got punched into the real guns in any case.

Garrus heard footsteps closing in before the battery doors swished open. He didn't bother turning around to see who it was, the smell of some cosmetic product used by the captain filled his nostrils and it was all he needed to know who dared to bother him now. He continued typing on the holo keyboard in front of him as he heard the intruder speak.

"Have you got a minute?"

"Can it wait a bit? I'm in the middle of some calibrations."

The battery doors swished close behind him, but the intruder did not remove herself from his lair. Instead, he felt a hand grab his shoulder and pull him around. He sighed and turned to look at Shepard expectantly.

"We're docking to Illium soon. I need you ready to get the Justicar once we have Miranda's sister secured. Shouldn't take longer than a couple of hours. Can you get your calibrations finished by then?"

He noticed EDI's holo pop up from the corner of his eye, and felt his blood pressure raise suddenly.

"Officer Vakarian is having some difficulties with the cannon. He has refused my offer to help with the calculations..." EDI was cut off by Garrus.

"It _will _be ready in two hours, Commander," he growled, looking at EDI's holo instead of Shepard.

"Very well," she nodded, raising her brows at his demeanor and turned to leave, but stopped at the door, her commander-face breaking down to Just Jane-face as she turned to face him again, "You want to tell me what's wrong, Garrus? Talk to me."

"Commander, with due respect," he began, his flanging voice carrying none of the respect he spoke of, but immediately backed down and continued in a defeated manner, "I'm just trying to get some work done here. That's all."

Shepard frowned, and he felt her observing him for what seemed like an eternity before she huffed and turned around to exit the battery, the door swishing close soon after. He let out a breath he didn't notice he had been holding and returned his attention to the cannon controls, after ensuring that EDI had buggered off. Garrus stared at the panel of blinking lights, the beeps, bleeps, ticks and clicks ringing in his ears. His mind was whirring and processing thoughts at the speed of light without really getting anywhere, not to mention they were not the kind of thoughts that were needed right now. There was no way in hell he was going to finish this calibration in two hours. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, before calling out.

"EDI?" he heard his voice sharp, echoing in the small metal room.

Silence.

"EDI...?" he drawled impassionedly now.

Silence. The damned AI was toying with him. It was the only explanation, since it had no feelings that he could have hurt with his earlier abuse. Unless EDI was evolving like the geth, but that was reeeeeally not something Garrus wanted to think about right now.

"EDI...I am..." he started, testing the waters carefully, trying to swallow his pride, "... sorry ... for what I said earlier," he finally managed to say it, feeling utterly humiliated that he should apologise anything to pile of circuits and wires. He knew that sometimes pieces of inanimate electronic equipment fixed themselves when asked nicely, but that didn't reduce the horror he felt as the holo flickered to life and he thought he heard just a little bit of smugness in EDI's mechanical voice once it spoke.

"Officer Vakarian, you called?"

"Yeah. I did. About those calculations..." he squirmed.

"You wish for assistance with the Thanix cannon, Officer Vakarian?" EDI confirmed, and Garrus was sure it did it just to rub it in.

"Right, so umm, if you could handle this bit and I'll wrap it up from there when you're done?"

"Certainly, Officer Vakarian. Just give me a moment."

The control panel flickered with lights as EDI set to work, and Garrus thought it a good moment to grab some breakfast, knowing that most of the crew had already eaten theirs and the mess hall was empty, save for Gardner. So he sneaked out of the battery room and in a few long strides was standing in front of the chef pondering his options for food. Blue synthetic meat rations, or green synthetic meat rations? Crackers that tasted like cardboard, or crackers that tasted like the plastic wrapper they came with? After purposefully wasting three minutes on weighing his options, he settled for green and cardboard with a bottle of purified water, thanked Gardner as always, and was off on his way back to the battery. He did not see the look the chef gave in his direction.

He quickly glanced over at what EDI was doing and decided not to poke in, not quite yet. Garrus seated himself on his cot, leaning against the warm wall and pulled a slice of green protein-texture off the slab and carefully placed it on a cracker. If he closed his eyes, he could almost pretend it was real food he was eating. Roasted jummen-meat served with a sauce of herbs... like his mother used to cook back on Palaven, when the whole clan would gather together to celebrate, children playing, the military freshmen checking each other out future marriage negotiations in mind, his father holding a speech...

Suddenly, he lost what little appetite he had. His eyes jerked open and he glared at the dinky, dim room that he now called 'home'. He snorted and growled at the empty room, then shook his head clear of the unfamiliar feelings. Since when did he find the Normandy uncomfortable?

**One week ago, Normandy SR2, the main battery**

Garrus was staring at the control panels of the cannons as his omni-tool bleeped informing him of a new message. He flicked the interface open, assuming it to be a quick message from Shepard, probably some lewd joke of the sort they'd been exchanging for a while now, on and off the field both. He opened it mandibles quivering with anticipation, already thinking of a few deliciously crude things to say back to his commanding officer, when his blood froze. It wasn't from Shepard, it was from his father. He was much too stunned to take the entire message in, but what got to him were the words "30 years old", "marriage", "dishonourable bastard of a son" and "I will disown you". He was a bad turian, alright, but not bad enough for the bred-to-obey part of him to disregard a message like this. All his 29 years of life he had failed his father in every way, whether he was attempting to fail him or not. Now he was looking at the Ultimate Failure of not marrying some sweet turian girl before his father got his grubby claws off his life and civilian rights. He could not possibly return to Palaven after that. Ever.

He collapsed on his cot, trying to think what he should be thinking about right now. Ever since he got on the new Normandy, ever since he got Shepard back in his life, he had been on a crash-course to this disaster that was his life. He had always admired Shepard, her freedom as a Spectre, the lack of red tape and the freedom she had offered _him_. They were the best team out in the battle field, competing for head shots. They were friends out of combat, too, valuing the companionship and trust they had between them. She had shown him things his father was trying to keep from him, things he couldn't imagine of while working at C-Sec, and like a Red Sand addict he yearned for more. Then she, this human woman, had started the flirting. He felt more than a little confused at first but went along for the laughs, he didn't want to upset her after all that she had done for him. It felt rather innocent, after all, just good friends messing about. He thought she was quite the loudmouth and based on the stories she told she apparently had shagged half the platoon in her basic camp years, so he had to liven up his stories a bit to meet her standards. Soon the 'messing about' had gotten out of hand. It had turned into a constant tension and competition, who could fire the crudest remarks or hide the most innuendo in a perfectly innocent comment. He figured now that she wasn't in it just for the laughs. She really wanted something of him. Surprised, he had felt something awaken inside him in response, something he had not really dared to think of, not after his experiences with a girl named Livia, as an 18-year old youngster at the boot camp. That 'something' got now crushed by his father's message and he no longer knew what he wanted or what he _should_ want himself. His mind was filled with conflict that was tearing him apart and it scared the shit out of him.

* * *

_About the ages... I calculated (based on the MassWiki timeline page) that Shepard was 29 during ME1, and if Garrus is a couple of years younger, he'd be about 28-30 now, two years after. I settled for 29 for purposes of story, hehe._


	3. Practice

_Turian biology is something I've made up from scratch for this story instead of relying on what's been speculated (I'm a biology student, so I've been thinking about ME xenobiology and its plausibility _quite a bit_ while playing). After a lot of pondering, I decided they're somewhat like viviparous reptilians crossed with mammalian traits of infant care, probably giving birth to one or maximum two offsprings at a time. I can't see the society coping with, say, 10 kids a year and all raised to at least 15 years (which is what I assume happens, based on canon lore). The females have wider waist and hips than males, and carry the embryos at the bottom of their bellies, gestation period being perhaps 6-7 months. Newborn are just as vulnerable as human infants, incapable of hunting their own food and rely on their parents to provide nourishment for a few years at least, though they grow at a slightly faster rate than human infants (reaching sexual maturity a couple of years earlier than humans, for example). Later dependency is largely social, learning tools and better hunting techniques to catch bigger prey etc. I figured to take Garrus' comments about a "supportive waist" at face value, they weren't to say Shepard was fat and weird to Garrus, but that was she unmistakeably _female _to him, perhaps capable of carrying bigger and stronger offspring, if she were a turian. ;)_

_M-rating warning, "hot turian action" in this chapter... Enjoy, and comments are welcome as always! Thanks for the comments so far, I'm keeping them in mind as I push the story forward..._

* * *

Chapter 3

The ship-wide comms announced, with the voice of Joker, that they had gained docking permission and were approaching platform TF-24 at the Citadel Council docking bay on the 156th level, and the airlock was safe to open in approximately 10 minutes if there were no additional delays. Shepard stood alone in the airlock, adjusting the straps and clasps of her Cerberus-issued armour. It no longer looked like the standard Cerberus gear, for she had made good use of the paint-unit installed in her cabin. They had had a lot of fun with the machine with Garrus one drunken night, and they now wore matching armour. Shepard had amused herself with an idea of forcing the entire crew run their uniforms and armours through the machine and calling themselves _the Nortmanni, _but she knew any Viking-jokes would be wasted on the kind of enemies they fought daily.

It was 5 minutes till Miranda and Jacob were to show up. The mission could proceed as scheduled,luck had been on their side as they had blatantly abused Council privileges for personal matters. Shepard was always the first one ready, despite putting on the same armour and equipment as the others, no matter the occasion. She put on her gloves and leaned against the cockpit wall, letting her thoughts wander free these few calm moments she had to waste.

_Was some weird scary-ass dream I had last night... zombie-husk Garrus army, jeez. He'd probably want to hear for shit and giggles, should remember once we're back. It's not like I don't have my own zombie-husk Garrus here on board already, he does nothing but calibrate after calibrating... I'll calibrate his ass..._

"Commander" a male voice said bang on time, the figure next to Shepard standing to attention and stealing back _her _attention.

"Taylor. Ready to rock Nos Astra?" she punched him on the right arm, and felt the ship shake a little as the Normandy was prepared for disembarking.

Jacob grabbed his shotgun and flipped it around like in a parade, before saluting Shepard with a wink and returning to attention. She snorted with a grin and saluted back, and both gave up on the posing and leaned against opposing walls to wait for Miranda, who sure was taking her sweet time. Shepard was glad they had been close to a mass relay so the trip didn't take the usual hours and hours to make. If they were really lucky, they'd be back by dinnertime. Gardner was not a bad cook when he had the right ingredients, so Shepard was looking forward to the next week with less rations and more fresh foods in her meals. She had jokingly requested _stamppot _and gravy, which is what her grandmother used to make back on Mindoir.

"Excuse me, I had to reply to an urgent message," Miranda exclaimed as she hurried to meet the two soldiers, no more than four minutes late, Shepard's omni-tool clock revealed.

She motioned the two Cerberus operatives to move out and get going, taking a last look around the CIC before departing herself. Shepard stopped in her tracks as she noticed the turian vigilante standing next to the open elevator door, watching her. Their eyes locked long enough for Shepard's heart to leap in hope that her dear, old Garrus was returning to life, before he turned to discuss something with Kelly who was on her way down. They stepped into the elevator, the elevator doors closed and Shepard found herself standing there like an idiot, searching for the eyes that never looked back, until he was gone. She swallowed and composed herself, making a mental note to interrogate Miss Chambers later as she exited the airlock.

* * *

The elevator was taking far too long to get down to engineering. Garrus tried to pay attention to what Chambers was saying, but it was proving difficult. She was looking at him with great concern in her features (as far as Garrus could read the human faces he had grown accustomed to, it was concern) and her hands were drawing big pictures in the air in front of him as she went on and on and on. Finally the doors to engineering opened up and he heard Kelly say something about Shepard, in a way that sounded like a question or at least required him to answer something.

"Yes, you're right" he answered with a quick flare of his mandibles, before nodding her goodbye and getting out while he still could, leaving Kelly staring at his back in amazement.

Shepard had insisted on a special training room to be constructed on the engineering level, and Garrus found himself retreating down there almost every day the past week, to shoot a few rounds or to spar with a virtual opponent. Usually he would have preferred a living sparring partner, Shepard preferably, her being the only person in the crew who was always up for a round or two of sweaty wrestling with Garrus. He couldn't imagine the words 'sweaty' and 'wrestling' together with 'Shepard' now, not without a dull, achy longing forming in the bottom of his belly. He needed to forget about those feelings, and so he settled for target practise with a pistol to keep his mind focused on anything but Shepard. He selected an M-3 Predator from the rack, a low damage gun he never used on missions, and checked the range settings. They were already adjusted for training purposes, so he moved to the control panel to select his targets. He selected a randomised batarian from the wide array of possible options, and readied the gun.

**First solar quarter 2174 CE, Hierarchy Fleet Fort at Gaudo Muto, Incedus Islands, Palaven**

It was a hot evening, humidity levels uncommon for this time of the year. There was a strong smell of ozone in the air, which was a sign it was time to move indoors before the real thundering began. Garrus rubbed sweat out of his eyes, raised his Armax Brawler Mk-II pistol and aimed at the ugly head peeking from behind the crates a hundred-and-seventy metres away, and fired. The computer announced he had hit the right side of the batarian's skull, and that his total score was 20/20. His mandibles flared with satisfaction, and he turned around to leave the shooting range when he noticed her. The young turian nudged her head towards the barracks with a mischievous look in her eyes, before scuttling off towards the rendezvous point herself. Garrus watched her go, taking in the way the girl moved her hips as she walked, and felt his lower belly plates shift a little. He growled, holstering his pistol and hurried towards the barracks. A lightning struck the grounds somewhere in the fort, and the skies broke open, drenching his uniform.

He closed the door behind him, and glanced around the storage hall, searching for signs of the girl. He noticed a door open on the left side wall, and walked to the next room. It was the break lounge, mostly used for lunching by soldiers assigned to storage work but vacant at this hour of the day, except for the girl sitting on the couch at the other end of the room. She had a darker, brownish fringe with a golden sheen to it, and her tattoos consisted of two creamy white lines across her nose and cheeks, about one centimetre thick each, and the coppery skin on her neck was speckled with golden brown scales. Garrus had thought her exquisitely beautiful from the moment he had laid his eyes on her, when she had patched his broken wrist up at the infirmary two months ago.

His mandibles flared at her, and he strode closer, sitting next to her. She reached to touch his cheek, slowly moving to stroke his fringe as she nuzzled his neck. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her smaller body closer, leaning his head to smell her, one hand running up and down her back while the other caressed the back of her head and her fringe. The girl in his arms pulled away a bit to climb on his lap, to straddle him. He felt a moist tongue run along his skin and let out a deep growl, his blood rushing southwards as his protective plates shifted some more, making his pants a little uncomfortable. She had apparently noticed this, for the next thing he knew was her claws pulling his wet shirt up. He let go of her, to allow her pull the offending item of clothing over his head, and used the opportunity of having his hands free to remove her shirt, as well. He wrapped his left arm around her back, pushing her to lean against it, and reached to lick her chest plates while her hands busied themselves with the back of his head and fringe again.

Young and hot-headed that he was, this was quite enough to push him beyond desire, and he wrapped both hands around her tightly, lifting her up as he raised. He placed her sideways on the couch, on her knees, and jumped on the couch to mount her. He held on to her with his left arm, while his right hand grabbed the waist of her pants, pulling them over her hips and down to her thighs, before releasing his shaft from his all too tight trousers. He reached to hold on to her with both arms, his body hovering over hers, and he licked her exposed neck, all the way up to her fringe. She purred and lowered her head to allow him better access, claws digging into the couch as she steadied herself on all fours, while his right hand moved down to caress her chest and waist and between her legs, where his hand found her opening, her protective plates fully receded back due to her arousal. He jerked his hips up, and positioned himself, then slid into her warmth in one thrust. He could feel her deep purr on his chest, as he began moving fast, slamming his hips to hers at a furious pace. His right arm reached to take support of the back rest of the couch, and his tongue lapped her neck, he heard her ragged breathing get faster and faster. He doubled his efforts, thrusting desperately as he felt his release closing in. She growled deeply, lifting her head up and exposing her throat as she climaxed. It was all it took for him, his head jerked to bite down into the soft flesh of her throat as he bucked his hips a few more times. His growl reverberated against her skin as he came, body trembling and eyes shut close, pulling her body against him with his left arm and hips pushing hers as he released his seed into her.

He stayed there until the last wave of ecstasy was gone, then opened his eyes and released his teeth off her windpipe, licking her in long, slow motions. She opened her eyes to look at her lover, her mandibles low and relaxed, she shifted her weight on her left supporting arm as the other hand reached to caress him.

"I love you, Garrus," she breathed against his neck.

"I love you, too, Livia. By the Spirits, _I love you_..."

* * *

_Now second, revised edition. I noticed a brainfart that I missed through the three proofreadings... batarians have no tentacles, but for some reason I had a picture of those Star Wars dudes in my head when writing that Palaven shooting range scene..._


	4. Secrets

_I will be incorporating exact dates to the "current storyline", figured it'll get too complicated to keep track of what happened and when while reading otherwise. Annnd given the pacing of the events, it's kind of relevant. Also, forgive me for skipping some action scenes for now. I'm working on getting that part right still and I don't wanna publish stuff that I know is really "meh"... I'll try to add them in properly when they're relevant, i.e. add something to the Shep/Garrus development._

_Updates may come at a bit slower rate now. I have several chapters mostly done and waiting, but I need to write a lot of bits to knit the story together. I have a lot of material on my Garrus' past that doesn't really fit into _this _story, too... Maybe I'll put it together into a comprehensive story, a prequel._

* * *

Chapter 4

_Afternoon, 17th April, 2185 CE_

Garrus fired one more round at the poor virtual batarians, and checked his omni-tool for the time. He had been down here for almost two hours, and should be ready for a mission soon. He turned off the training program and returned his pistol to the weapons rack, and hurried for the elevator. His thoughts were pleasantly calm after all those rounds abusing virtual enemies, even his father wasn't haunting him at the moment.

Back at the main battery, he looked at EDI's work on the maths he hadn't been able to crack, and set up a test run. To his disappointment and relief both, it turned out flawless. He hollered a thank you to EDI, who he knew was always listening, and proceeded back to the elevator, up to the CIC and the armoury to finish polishing his weapons before Shepard came to pick him up. She'd be all sweaty after the fighting she never seemed to be able to avoid, and would have no time for a shower before they left to locate the Justicar. Garrus much preferred the salty and sweet aroma of her sweat to the chemical stink of cosmetics that assaulted his nostrils every time she marched into his 'office' after showering. It probably tasted as bad as it smelled, too...

_Dammit! I just wasted two hours worth of thermal clips and she's still possessing my mind!_

"Vakarian, there's been a change of plans. Shepard just commed in, mission cancelled. Didn't give me further details, but didn't sound worried either. Joker out." the pilot's voice voice rang through his comm.

Garrus didn't bother replying to him, but instead put his rifle back together and exited the armoury. He assumed the commander to have a good reason for leaving him out of action today, and he would hear it once they returned. Yet, he couldn't help feeling disappointed, it wasn't just his commander leaving him out, but it was _Shepard_. He tried to push those thoughts aside as he marched back to his quarters. He could do a bit of the work he had planned for later.

* * *

Shepard stood and waited for the decontamination to finish, before stepping back on board the Normandy, closely followed by Jacob. The old-fashioned analogue clock on the CIC wall was at 18:05. Getting Oriana to safety had been a bit trickier than she had hoped. They were hours late of the intended schedule and would have to remain docked till tomorrow. On the positive side, they had a possible lead to the Justicar. They had bumped into an assistant of Liara T'Soni, with a message that Liara wished to see Shepard. She had been surprised that Liara was on Illium and actually knew of Shepard's arrival, but the reunion had been a pleasant one. She would help Shepard to locate the Justicar. Liara had promised to deliver her what information she could gather by noon.

"Johnston, Carill. XO Lawson will be at the docks with the supplies in half an hour. Go give her a hand with the crates, so her nails don't break," she called at the two Cerberus technicians, who were fixing a dysfunctional navigation holo screen. The two men acknowledged her request, but she was already on her way to the elevator.

She was pulling off the chestplate of her armour before the doors to her cabin had fully closed. A YMIR mech's missile had blasted away a container she had used for cover, blasting her ten metres away as a result. Now she had a nice, big bruise forming on her left side and her head was aching a little, although her suit monitor had reported that nothing was seriously broken. She removed the rest of her armour and the protective undersuit as well, dropping them in a pile on the floor.

Shepard dragged herself to the bathroom in her underwear and looked at herself in the mirror. Her hair was tangled and sweaty and there was a minor wound on her right cheek. She rubbed at the wound, examining the damage on the rest of her body. A small bruise on the left collarbone and the other where her ribs ended, the size of her hand. It was brutally purple and made her skin look even pastier than normally. Opening the cupboard, she grabbed a medigel patch and latched it on over the bruise before stepping out of the bathroom to check her messages.

The holo screen flicked open, switching to her mailbox. Spam, more spam, a message from the Illusive Man, another from an unnamed address. She expected both to mean more headaches and decided to deal with them once the current was hurting less. Instead, she commed to Garrus to explain the situation.

"Garrus?"

"Yes, Shepard?" he replied in after a moment.

"I'm sorry about leaving you in the dark earlier. Miranda's friend, who was to help with the transfer, sold her out and we had a little trouble with some Eclipse mercs as a result. Nothing too serious, just cost us a lot of time."

There was another pause, and Shepard could hear Garrus take a deep breath at the other end.

"Are you... did anyone get hurt badly?"

"Just some scrapes and bruises. As I said, it wasn't anything serious. Liara's on Illium now, working as an information broker, believe it or not, and she's tracking down our Justicar. You're on the ground team tomorrow, I promise."

"Thanks for informing me, Shepard. Talk to you later," the comm crackled down and Shepard was certain the turian wasn't entirely pleased with their conversation.

* * *

_20:30, 17th April, 2185 CE_

Garrus was seated on his cot, leaning on a pillow propped against the wall, focused on a datapad on his lap. She noticed him take a deep breath, eyes closed and leaning his head back, as she entered the battery. She was carrying a tray piled with two metallic plates and two sets of universal utensils. He looked up at the door, and Shepard flashed him an apologetic smile.

"Hey stranger, care for some non-mechanical company? I brought your dinner. It looks..." she glanced down at the plate filled with a big, royal blue steak covered in gravy, a few pieces of what looked like red-yellow broccoli florets and a brown stick-like thing Shepard couldn't identify, "good. Smells delicious, too, like a _crème brulée_."

Garrus put his datapad aside, and nodded for her to come closer. He pulled a spare circuit crate next to his cot and propped up a second pillow next to his. Shepard smiled to herself and placed the tray on the crate and sat on the cot with a little wince, holding her left side. Garrus was observing her, mandibles drawn close to his cheeks, but didn't comment. He moved his attention to the plates instead, and turned the tray around.

"I suppose this is mine, Commander, and not the other way around. Unless Gardner really exceeded himself this time," he grabbed his knork and proceeded to slice a chunk of the meat with surprising ease, "What is that on your plate, anyway? I won't ask what a '_crème brulée' _is, it's probably better if I don't know."

Shepard grabbed her own utensil and pushed the spikes through the creamy yellow crust of her dish, savouring its taste before answering.

"Shepherd's Pie," she said, and before she could stop herself she heard her voice continuing, "Do you want to have some?"

"Obviously, but what _is_..." his flang sounded a bit annoyed now, and she felt her cheeks burn.

"Hum..." his face fell as her words registered fully, she could see his brain working to find a suitable retort, and then his knork flashed to her plate and returned to his mouth filled with potato mash, and she saw him swallow quickly, "You shouldn't dare me like that, _Shepard. _You know what Chakwas thinks of irresponsibly putting your subordinates' lives in danger", he finished dangerously, before falling into a coughing fit.

"Garrus! It was a bloody joke!" she cried out and threw her knork on the tray and automatically dug into her civvies pockets for sachets of medigel, not that they would help a lot, and grabbed him by the shoulders, "Are you okay? Does it hurt? Do I need to get Mordin?"

"I'm in enormous pain, Shepard. I doubt I'll make it. Tell the Illusive Man it was an honour to work with Cerberus," he drawled, no longer suffocating, looking at her with amusement, and something else Shepard wasn't entirely sure of, in his eyes.

Her eyes widened in annoyance and she punched him on the chest.

"You're an ass, Vakarian, you know that?"

"The best the galaxy has to offer. What would you do without me, Commander?" he punched her gently back.

She shook her head and couldn't help laughing. Tucking into her meal again, he motioned Garrus to do the same.

"Don't wanna waste your _crème brulée," _she said and wolfed down several mouthfuls before turning to look at him again, "It's good to see you enjoying yourself again, Garrus. You had me worried there."

He stared at a piece of flesh harpooned on his knork and nodded. Shepard thought she saw a shadow cross his eyes. Whatever was eating him wasn't dealt with yet, but she was happy to get him in a somewhat better mood. She scooped up the rest of the mash and stuffing, swallowed it and sucked her knork clean, out of old habit acquired on long field missions. He had finished his meal, leaving the bits of what Shepard assumed to be vegetables untouched, and from the corner of her eye she noticed him watching her perform the cleaning operation. She placed the utensil on the tray and looked at him. A moment of tense silence passed.

"Thanks for the company. It was a pleasant dinner, but... I don't want to keep you from your duties, Commander," his blue eyes were locked on hers and she could feel from the mattress's sudden lack of gentle rocking, that his body was frozen to the place.

She held his gaze and nodded, raising to pick up the dirty plates to return them to the mess hall. He wanted to be alone now, so she would let him be alone. She would give him a few more days to come clean before pressing the matter.

* * *

He stared at the battery door for a moment after it had closed, throat burning and itching, then reached under the cot for a small box that contained most of his personal belongings excluding weapons and armour, and opened it, grabbing a small medicinal jar. After some jackass from the maintenance crew had mixed up his crackers with human crackers, he'd done some research on the most dangerous human foods he should avoid at all costs. Shepard's yellow goo hadn't reminded him of anything particularly lethal so he had risked it, failing to come up with a verbal response to the suggestion that had caught him off guard. It had a strange, but not entirely unpleasant taste and it cost him a sore throat, but it was worth it to see the look on her face. Plus, ever since the cracker incident he always kept a stash of allergy medicines nearby. He got them from Mordin, under the counter. Shepard didn't know, nor would she. She had enough problems to deal with and he wasn't one to complain about little things. He had made it crystal clear to Mordin, that should Shepard ever find out about his little problem from him, his extended family would have some new genophage-related dirt to gossip about. He swallowed two pills, pushed the box under the cot, kicked his boots off and laid down. The pills had an unfortunate side-effect of making him quite drowsy, and it wasn't long till he had crashed out.

_Garrus glanced briefly at the homeless, legless human reaching out for him. He had more pressing concerns right now, so he tore his eyes away and continued along the alley. Garbage barrels were burning behind him, adding the stench of burning plastic to the already sickening mixture of rotting flesh, chemicals and bodily waste products of spirits-only-knew how many different species that lived in this hellhole. He always knew Omega was bad, but had never realised it was _this _bad._

_But he had to press on, not focus on the social disease around him. He looked to his right, and saw a turian unashamedly making out with an asari. She was pinned on the table beneath him, glasses and bottles tossed on the ground. The loud music covered their moans and groans. On the next table, a human stood naked sandwiched between two turians. Despite the red, flashing club lights, Garrus could see her arms and chest were covered in long, bleeding wounds. The other turian looked at Garrus and sank his teeth into the human's shoulder, her face twisting and mouth opening in a scream._

_He turned away, nauseated, and pressed on. He could already see her, find her scent through the ocean of smells: sweat, fear, panic. People rushed past him screaming. He reached out his hand, trying to grab her. She was slipping into the vast darkness, and he couldn't stop it. He let himself fall after her, his lungs emptying of air as the dark void embraced him._

Garrus woke up startled, gasping for air. He'd had nightmares of Shepard's death ever since he first heard of it, and they hadn't gone away now that she was back. He'd grown used to them, learned to push them out of his mind as soon as he awakened, but tonight he was feeling a little more unsettled than on most nights. He could no longer remember exactly what it was that had scared him about this dream. It didn't matter in any case, it wasn't real and Shepard was safe, sleeping two levels above him. He turned on his other side and closed his eyes again, trying to catch a few more hours before the morning.


	5. Team

_So__... __here__'__s __chapter__ 5, __after__ a__ long __wait__. __Been __a__ hectic__ start __of __a__ semester __for__ me__, __so __I __didn__'__t__ have __a __lot__ of__ time __to __write__! __I__'__m __a __bit__ unsure __of__ the __battle __scenes __still__, __and__ decided __to __cut __them __shorter __and__ leave__ room __for__ imagination__ (=__canon__ game__, __everyone __knows __what__ happened__), __in __case __they __got __too __long__ and__ boring__. __I__ could__ have __gone __on__ some__ more__, __but __let__'__s __try__ a __taster __first__, __if __it__'__s __worth __it __or __not__! __Hope__ you __enjoy __it__!_

_

* * *

_

Chapter 5

_07:14, 18__th __April__ 2185 __CE__, __Normandy__ SR__2_

"Good morning, Officer Vakarian. Your presence is requested in the comm room at zero eight hundred. You have forty-five minutes of time until."

EDI's holo flickered out. Garrus pushed his legs out of the cot and stood up, stretching. Slumbering wasn't his style. His neck gave a satisfying crack as he pulled his shoulders back and pushed his chin down, reaching for his keel. No matter how many pillows he propped up to support his head, human beds just weren't pleasant to sleep in. He wasn't feeling too fresh, either, having fallen asleep in his casual wear and spending the night sweating and trashing around thanks to nightmares.

He grabbed a fresh undersuit from the clean pile on a crate and marched out of the main battery towards the crew section and the bathrooms. Unsurprisingly, the men's showers were already occupied. Usually Garrus did his best to avoid bumping into Cerberus crewmen in this particular area of the ship, but today there was no time.

He unbuckled his boots and set them aside to keep them dry, placing his clean clothes on top of them. His shirt almost came off in one swift pull, the collar getting stuck on his fringe. He cursed, tugging harder to detach the cloth, and tossed it down the laundry duct as it finally came off. Garrus gave a sidelong glance towards the other man before stripping down his pants and socks. He quickly pushed them down the duct and hurried to claim the shower farthest away from Taylor.

"Morning. Got up on the wrong side of the bed, Vakarian?"

"In the wrong bed, more like," he grumbled earning a lewd whistle from Jacob. "I mean, your human beds aren't really made for someone of my size."

"Never knew you had experience in that department, Vakarian!" Jacob sniggered.

Garrus ignored him, fiddling with the shower's settings. A spray of hot water fell on his cowl and he sighed, enjoying the feeling of his scales warming up. Jacob's voice interrupted him again.

"So how's it for you on a human ship, really, with just human women around and no turian chicks to be found? Not that I've seen them around anywhere, I think... We got a pretty good selection of ladies on this ship, you know... I dunno if Cerberus hires skilled _and_good-looking people on purpose or what, but hot damn! You're missing out, man! The Commander's got an ass to die for. Good to be on the ground team again."

Garrus turned his head slightly to look at the man, whose face was now covered in white foam, which he was removing strip by strip with a spatula of sorts. He'd seen crewmen on the old Normandy do this on those few times he had bumped into them in the washrooms, and knew it was a custom of some human men, but Garrus hadn't been curious enough to find out more. Jacob cursed loudly and he saw a trickle of red blood colour the foam.

"I wouldn't know about that," Garrus murmured and turned the water temperature up a notch more.

"Yeah, I feel sorry for you," the other shower was closed down and Jacob waltzed past him, punching him on the arm.

"It's twenty to, see you at briefing, Vakarian," Jacob hollered from the door before exiting, wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around his midsection.

Garrus shut the water down and opened a hatch in the wall for a towel. He wrapped it around his waist, as was the custom on human ships, and marched to the sinks. Looking in the mirror he saw his bandages were still in place and didn't require immediate swapping. He quickly dressed and left for the main battery to pick up his armour before the meeting started.

* * *

_13:50, 18__th __April__ 2185 __CE__, __Nos __Astra __Spaceport__, __Illium_

"More mechs twelve o'clock, watch out!" Shepard ducked behind a crate, a biotic bolt whooshing past where her head had been a moment ago. That asari bitch was going to get it soon.

"Got it, Shepard," she heard Garrus' voice on the comm and after a moment a mech exploded, scattering searing hot pieces of metal around and drawing some screams out of the Eclipse mercs on the other side of the alley. She grinned and peeked up from behind the crate, aiming her M-15 Vindicator rifle at the remaining LOKI mech and let loose several rounds before ducking down again. Shepard dropped the heat sink and reached for another, cursing as she found none.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, focusing and collecting her strength for a moment, then lunged up and quickly scanned the battlefield. Noticing the heavily shielded asari focused on returning Garrus' fire, she aimed on her location and unleashed a biotic burst. Shepard screamed as a jolt of electric passed through her, still not used to her biotic powers, but a little pain was worth seeing the asari's shields drop, allowing Garrus to finish her off with a clean shot between the eyes.

"Good shot, Vakarian! I owe you a beer for that one" she cheered, but quickly dropped down as the remaining mech's bullets caused her own shields to flicker. In a few seconds, the bullets turned into flying metal shards and the battle was over.

"Let's move," she barked and walked up to the bodies. Nudging them around with her boot, she found a package of heat sinks and tossed Jacob and Garrus a few before clicking a fresh one in place to her assault rifle.

They moved to the end of the corridor that opened up into a big storage hall. A holo-screen flickered on a wall divider and from the corner of her eye Shepard saw something move behind the divider. She motioned the crew to halt and moved to the edge to take a peek. At the far end of the hall, she saw a window to the landing platforms and a gunship hovering outside.

"Gonna have some trouble. Eclipse gunship. Let's clear this hall first, though. Move out and stay alert," she motioned them to move past the divider.

They approached a set of stairs at the far end of the seemingly empty room when the mechs opened fire. Shepard saw Garrus' shields take some heat before he got into cover, while flying behind a crate herself. Jacob roared somewhere behind her and the mechs raised up in the air, twitching as bullets bore into their metal plating. They ran up the stairs to check for remaining enemies and were greeted by a couple of mercs firing from their right.

"Taking out their shields," Shepard yelled and prepared for another biotic burst. She wasn't fully recovered from the previous display of biotics yet, but that was something to worry about later.

Garrus dropped the asari quickly as their shields died, and the trio pushed onwards.

* * *

Garrus flicked through a selection of datapads in the Eclipse office. Detective Anaya would have a field day arresting people thanks to all this evidence. He clicked a holo-screen on and a message played.

"_Well__, __it__'__s__ official__. __Little __baby __Elnora __is __finally __a __full__-__fledged__ Eclipse __merc__! __I __earned __my __uniform__ last __night __when __I__ killed __that __ridiculous__ volus__..."_

"Good thing we shot the lying bitch," Shepard muttered.

"Anaya will want to know about this," Garrus said, busy downloading as much evidence data as he could find, before nodding to Shepard that he was ready.

"Alright, let's get going."

Garrus stepped behind Shepard as they followed the corridor to an opening leading to a landing platform. Shepard signalled them to move to positions beside the door frame for covering fire. She followed, positioning herself in the middle without immediate cover and Garrus saw a LOKI's laser targeting fix on her. He aimed at its head and fired his M-97 Viper, tearing the mech's head in half. It took a few steps backwards before falling and exploding, sending another mech flying on its backside. Shepard's assault rifle took care of it and they moved to inspect the platform outside.

An engine roared and the gunship appeared, spraying at them with rapid fire. Shepard yelled to fall back and they took cover by the door frame again. Garrus loaded armor-piercing shells to his sniper rifle and glanced at Shepard. She nodded, aiming a missile launcher at the gunship, and they fired.

The missile hit the left wing of the gunship, skewing its balance a bit, but it kept firing. Garrus aimed at the motor's vents and fired, and was instantly rewarded with an exploding noise. The pilot was losing control of the vehicle. Shepard launched another missile at it and it came down crashing, scattering burning debris over the platform.

"Everybody okay? I'm gonna need a minute, it got through my shields, " she was holding her right thigh and leaning on the wall. Garrus' stomach lurched and he hurried over, digging out medi-gel patches.

"Here," he knelt down and popped her armour thigh plate open, then searched for her body suit's leg zipper and pulled it open. The wound was red and oozing against her white skin, but there was no time to clean it up properly now. He latched the patch on, pressing his hand over it. Shepard drew in a sharp breath and he looked up at her. Suddenly, he grew conscious of the fact he was holding on to her a little longer than necessary and released her leg, backing off eyes on the ground.

"Uh, Commander, I'd suggest me and Jacob go ahead and you provide covering fire. It doesn't look like you can sprint on that leg until Chakwas has had a good look at it."

"Good plan. Let's go, squad leader," she smiled at Garrus.

"Yes, ma'am."

* * *

_16:15, 18__th __April__ 2185 __CE__, __Normandy__ SR__2, __Citadel__ Council__ Docking__ Bay__, __Nos__ Astra__, __Illium_

"Jacob, can you give Samara the tour?" Shepard said as the ground team was waiting for entrance to the Normandy. "Samara, there's a few rooms you can stay in, pick which one you like. We'll discuss more later, if you'll excuse me for now," she smiled at the asari.

"Certainly, Commander. I understand."

"Joker, we're ready to go. Next stop Citadel for refueling and shore leave for everyone," Shepard called out to the cockpit.

"They have a fuel stop up in the orbit here, you know..."

"But they don't give Council employee discount."

"Point. Plotting course to the Citadel, Commander."

"I'll be in the med bay, if needed."

* * *

_Around__ midnight__, 18__th __April__ 2185 __CE__, __Dark__ Star __Lounge__, __The__ Citadel_

The bass climbed up her spine, raising the hairs on her neck, and the sea of coloured light mixed with a liberal dose of strobos dizzied her head pleasantly. Shepard shoved down a shot of some vodka-like drink the turian barkeep had recommended, grimaced and wiped her lips to the back of her hand, before turning away from the bar to observe the club's populace. It was very crowded tonight, people bumping into each other on the dance floor and the barkeeps too busy to serve every customer in - what many patrons considered to be - reasonable time. To her left, she saw Kasumi and Jacob seated at a small table, huddled close together and focused on their conversation. On her right, Joker and Kelly, dancing. Well, Kelly dancing and Joker safely seated, watching Kelly dance. She couldn't locate Miranda, but assumed she had stayed behind along with Mordin, who was working on some bigger project Shepard had no clue of. Zaeed had gone to some suspicious turian bar in the lower wards to catch up with some old friends.

She turned to the barkeep again, who nodded indicating that he would come to her soon. In the meantime, Shepard checked out the drinks selection display, rows and rows of familiar and alien bottles. A suspiciously named neon blue bottle of 'Krogax' next to a more familiar 'Hennessy', and a worryingly large number of bottles that looked like the club's own mixes without proper labeling.

The turian approached her and Shepard pointed at her empty glass, shouting "same, make it double". She downed the new drink as quickly as she had the previous one and licked her lips. It didn't taste as horrible as the first round had tasted. The barkeep was already serving another customer, so Shepard decided not to bother asking about it. Instead, she left to find herself a quiet booth to sit in.

* * *

He was used to observing the club from the upper terrace, having spent more than a few sober nights here spying on the activities of suspects while at the C-Sec. This particular spot gave him a good view over the entire club, from the dance floors and bars to the tables and booths.

He wasn't a C-Sec investigator going undercover anymore, so he'd had several drinks already. But he was spying on someone, though he didn't want to admit it. His target had excluded herself to a booth on the far side of the club and was sitting there alone, for now. He noticed a couple of humans eyeing her up, seeking her attention from a distance. She didn't need drunk idiots trying to score a one night affair right now, so he got up and made his way downstairs, stopping at the bar.

"Hey, you're sitting here all by yourself. Want some company?" he had to talk louder to make his voice heard over the music, but luckily the booths were equipped with mass effect fields that echoed some of the noise away.

"Garrus, hey. Sure, sit down. Are you binging or is one of those for me?"

"I don't know what it is, but I asked for a recommendation," he passed her a fruity cocktail as he sat down, and took a sip of his own dark Palavani distilled liquor. "You can buy me that drink you promised next round."

Shepard stared at the cocktail for a moment, but took a gulp. Garrus looked at her, expecting some reaction.

"It's not what usually order, but it's good!"

"How's your leg holding up? Still stiff?" he swallowed another mouthful of liquor, eager to get more alcohol into his already intoxicated system.

"It's going to be okay, I hear," she paused and drank some more, "How're you holding up in general? I get the impression you've been a bit stiff all over for the past week..."

"I've, ahh...I guess it's the mission. It's quite stressful. And it's different on a... human ship. You're squishy and afraid of a good wrestle to blow off steam. Well, most of you, anyway."

"I'll spar with you anytime, but I thought you got tired of losing and didn't want to go a few rounds with me anymore."

"Maybe we need to try again, once you're fit for walking on your own without tripping over."

"I'd like that. I'm going to kick your ass so hard you'll walk funny for a week."

* * *

_03:32, 19__th __April__ 2185 __CE__, __Normandy__ SR__2, __Shepard__'__s__ Cabin_

The room was spinning as she stumbled into her cabin, staggered down the stairs and crashed on the bed. She stared up at the ceiling window for a few minutes, before closing her eyes and swallowing hard. Alone, she slept through a dreamless night.


	6. Interlude: Obdurio III

_This __mini__-__chapter __doesn__'__t __fit __the __chapter __structure __rules __I__ set __for __myself__. __Rules __are __meant __to__ be__ broken __so __I__'__m __posting __it __as__ an __interlude __sort __of __thing__._

_Thanks __for __pointing __out __about __Chora__'__s__ Den__. __That__ was __unintentional __change __to __the__ storyline__, __so __I__ changed __it__._

_I just found the "reply to review" button a few days ago, btw, I'm a bit daft with this system so sorry I didn't reply earlier... I'm still not sure how it's supposed to work, I kinda thought the replies appear in the reviews but I don't see that happen... trying to figure it out. :D  
_

* * *

**Second ****solar**** quarter**** 2174 ****CE****, 15****th**** Fleet ****Cruiser ****Obdurio ****III****, ****Farinata ****System****, ****Hades**** Gamma ****Cluster**

Livia Tritae was seated at her workstation in the med bay, focused on medical scans of a soldier's crushed legs. Garrus walked up to her, peering at the screen over her shoulder. He couldn't understand what the red and blue messy lines meant, but judging by Livia's expression, it didn't look too good.

"What's the verdict? Is she going to make it?"

"She'll live, of course, but she won't be walking without prosthetics and neural therapy. The five lowest vertebrae were practically crushed, along with the pelvic bones. There's little that can be done about her legs. The damage was too much, like someone put her through a grinder," Livia was flicking open new scan images as she spoke and pointing at what Garrus assumed to be the important bits.

He nodded, mandibles tight against his mouth. Salva Calli was his squad's tech expert, the best on this ship. Now she was out of commission and he'd need to negotiate with Officer Tharax about alternatives. The ship's personnel included a couple of tech rookies on their first proper assignment, but this was a hot zone the Obdurio was patrolling. A human research team observing Nepneu experienced a critical core meltdown on their station two days ago, and the wreckage was attracting a lot of unwanted visitors. Garrus wondered why the humans couldn't deal with the mess themselves, but the orders came from the Council. They, too, had an interest in the recent findings. So they'd sent the closest patrol to keep the humans in check and gather intelligence, under the guise of galactic cooperation.

A Blue Suns strike team had caught Garrus' team by surprise on the first evacuation trip, resulting in the death of a soldier called Daetris Vido and the tech expert's lower body being torn into bloody pulp by a rigged explosive. A couple of humans had died, too, but they'd managed to push the mercs out.

Livia got up and walked to the nearby sick bed to administer more painkillers to Salva. Over the monitors, machines and IV drips keeping her body alive he could see the outline of Daetris' cold body on another bed, covered with a blanket. They had no respectable place for bodies on a ship this small except the tiny med bay. This was supposed to be another patrol and not a combat mission.

"I will keep her sedated until we're back at the base," she turned back to face Garrus and walked up to him, touching his cheek gently, "I already sent out requests for follow-up treatments. Be safe out there, I don't want to patch you up."

"I'll do my best," he reached up to her, hesitating moment, then placed his hand on her neck and leaned to nuzzle her cheek. An alarm rang through the ship-wide comms, alerting the teams to get their weapons and get ready. "I better go."

He let go of Livia and rushed to the med bay door, glancing back once more before running after his crew members.

* * *

"Officer Tharax," he saluted the tall man inspecting a datapad in the cargo hold. His squad was gathered together and ready, checking their weapons and eager to move.

"Vakarian, about bloody time you showed your face. Melris and Timon will fill your disabled fire team. It'll be one more day before reinforcements get to this ancestors' forsaken shithole of a planet, so do me a favour and double check for traps. No, make that a triple check."

"Uh, sir, we need a tech..."

"Another vessel identified as belonging to the Blue Suns is approaching and is estimated to dock in 15 minutes. I expect you to be ready for them. Why the hell are you still standing here, Vakarian? Go." Tharax waved his datapad in front of Garrus' face.

"Yes, sir," he bit onto his tongue and saluted, before running to his squad. They stood to attention, waiting for orders.

"You heard him. Keep an eye for hull breach alerts. Aevnio, Timon, Scelus. You go with Caetras. Melris, Leva and Pritus, come with me," Garrus ordered, and motioned the squad to move to the airlock. He felt a little sick in the stomach, taking two youngsters into the fight like this, but he had his orders and he wasn't about to disobey. If this inexperienced team was all that he got, then they'd just have to fight harder.

* * *

"You traitor! Piece of filth... How dare... you..." a shotgun fired and Pritus' voice turned to gurgles as he drew in a sharp breath, choking on his blood. Another shot and his body dropped down on the floor, glassy eyes staring up in confusion as a blue pool formed around his collar.

Garrus took his chance and aimed for the merc's head from behind a corner, taking him down with two shots. The merc had been from the same colony as poor Pritus. He'd been upset enough to lose his focus and had charged right into their fire, trying to wrestle the turian in question. He should have known better than to let his feelings take over. Now he was dead and Garrus was down a man who could actually fire an assault rifle without shooting his own toes off.

The firing from the corridor had ended and he peeked his head out to have a look. Two batarian mercs lay on their faces on the floor, having been shot from behind. Two humans in Alliance uniforms stood there and pointed their guns at Garrus.

"Easy there, I'm from the Council Fleet," he stepped out and lowered his sniper rifle, "I spoke with your commander not half an hour ago."

"Yeah, well how the fuck are we supposed to know? You turians all have the same, ugly face," the shorter human spat out.

Leva and Melris ran up from the connecting corridor and halted as they saw the humans targeting their squad leader. They swiftly took combat positions to return fire if necessary. The taller human switched his assault rifle to point at the new arrivals instead.

"Alright, calm down everyone! There's Blue Suns on the loose on this station. We need to take them out and we're supposed to be working together!" Garrus motioned his team to lower their weapons. His body was tense, ready to fight or flight, and his undersuit was getting uncomfortably sweaty and cold.

The humans finally got it into their thick heads that the turians were not the enemy and lowered their weapons. Garrus acknowledged this with a nod and moved closer, his team following. He kicked over the batarians on the floor and leaned to search for medical supplies and anything useful. Melris and Leva helped him drag the two turians aside, waiting for later pickup. They stood in silence for a moment, until the humans interrupted.

"What gives? You freaks done with the corpses? We gonna move or not?" the humans were staring at the trio.

Garrus let out a little growl, but swallowed it down and nodded. The two turians looked at him, not even trying to conceal their anger. Garrus knew they'd not start anything with the humans as long as he kept his mouth shut, as well, and he wasn't about to be taunted while on a mission.

* * *

They searched the rest of the level and found only dead enemy combatants. The other fire teams had taken down a good number of mercs and the station was declared clear. Caetras' team went to fetch the fallen turians, and two more mercenaries from the lab level. They'd be shipped home. One to be celebrated as a fallen hero, three to be identified and returned to their families if they wanted their wayward sons buried in the soil of their home colonies.

Garrus wandered into the med bay, where Livia was busy stitching together a torn plate or dosing medi-gel to dampen down the pain from concussion. He walked up to Salva's bed, took her hand and squeezed it lightly. She didn't react, but he was pleased to see her heart beat and breathing stable and strong. She was but a year older than Garrus and her career was already over. At least she wouldn't need to worry about rehabilitation and living costs, all would be covered by the Hierarchy's system for veterans disabled in active duty.

He let go of her and turned to look at the corpses occupying the rest of the med bay beds. Two deaths he couldn't stop, even if he had tried. Both young and inexperienced soldiers, barely out of basic training.

"You took down the Blue Suns. They did their duty. Don't be sad," Livia wrapped her arms around his waist, startling him. He put his arm around her shoulder and leaned his forehead on hers.

"I know. Doesn't mean I'm exactly rejoicing, though."

"Come," she took his hand and pulled him towards her cabin, adjacent to the med bay for emergencies and easy monitoring of patients, "Mourn, but don't dwell on death. You're still alive, Garrus."


	7. The Dress

_Another shorter chapter. Might have a few more of these coming, depending if I aim to put together text from notes and update more frequently or not. We'll see._

* * *

_09:15, 19th April 2185 CE, Normandy SR2, Mess hall  
_

Shepard sat in the mess hall legs pulled up to her chest, hugging a mug of coffee. The back of her head was still buzzing to the rhythm of the bass and she had a little difficulty focusing her eyes on one spot. When it came to hangovers, spending two years dead did not equal to having the endurance of a two years younger person. It didn't help that Garrus had been in an unusually jolly mood in the early morning hours and had insisted on crazy turian drinking games.

One game had reminded her of Russian Roulette. 9 black glasses filled with liquor suitable for both species, and one black glass filled with ryncol, placed on a round tray. The tray was spun around and the player in turn had to drink from the glass that hit closest to a marker on the table. Shepard had thought it a bad idea to play with two participants only, but luck had been on her side. Garrus probably had a far worse hangover this morning than anybody else on the ship.

Kasumi sat down the opposite side of the table, carrying a bowl of ramen. The smell of food made Shepard's stomach quiver. She pushed her half-empty cup aside and rubbed her temples.

"Morning. You don't look too well, Shep. Did you not sleep well?" Kasumi attacked her noodles and munched down a few mouthfuls. "We've another party to attend tonight. I've taken care of it all, so don't worry. All you need to do it dress up and enjoy! It'll be fun."

"As long as everything goes according to the plan," Shepard turned to Kasumi and leaned on the table, resting her head on her arms, "Which it won't, as usual. Do you have a plan B or is that something to think about later?"

"Ah, we can always use brute force if it comes to that, I guess. That's your expertise. But my plan won't go wrong if we just stick to it. I did my background work and know what we have to do once we're inside."

"I need to get something for this headache. Let's have a briefing on the last moment details once we're in the system," she nodded to Kasumi and got up, making her way to the elevator.

* * *

The door to Mordin's lab displayed green, which meant it was probably safe to go in without hazmat gear. The salarian had once given her a heart attack with 'minor explosives testing', which according to him was perfectly safe to do on board. She didn't like surprises on her own ship any more than EDI did, so there had been some negotiations about acceptable testing and warnings given to the crew when these tests took place. So far, there'd been no additional problems.

The door whooshed open and she stepped in, only to be greeted by a rather pungent smell coming from the good doctor's work bench. Mordin was focused on a microscope, paying no attention to Shepard as she walked up to him. She leaned to take a closer look, trying to see any clues to what he was working on. Failing that, she picked up a datapad to read while waiting.

"Don't touch. Will talk in a moment," Mordin didn't even look up from the microscope, and Shepard put the datapad quickly back where it had been.

Finally Mordin stood up and grabbed the datapad to type in some figures, before turning his attention to Shepard.

"How can I help?"

"Well, I uh, had a few too many last night..." she scratched her head, "and was wondering if you had anything to..."

"Ah, understand. Developed a special stimulant. Not all STG members responsible," he drew in a deep breath, "Cannot risk mission. Blue bottle on the shelf. Two capsules sufficient," he pointed on the shelf on the opposite wall. "Anything else?"

"I guess not. I'll take that. Thanks, Mordin," she reached for the bottle and poured out two green-gray capsules on her palm and tossed them in her mouth, swallowing hard to push them down dry. She turned back to the professor, "Is everything going well here? Do you need anything for the lab?"

"Working on improvements for Cerberus armour shields. Will be ready for testing tomorrow."

"That's good to hear, we'll take them on the field for a good test run then. I'll let you work," she nodded to the salarian who was already immersed in whatever he was doing, exited the lab and made her way to Joker's lair.

"How's things in the cockpit?" Shepard leaned on the pilot's chair. Joker jumped in his chair and pulled his headphones off.

"Damn, don't scare me like that. Broken hip bone isn't funny."

"Didn't you say your seat is very soft with extra cushioning to prevent that?" she turned his chair around to face her, "Set the course to Bekenstein when we're ready to depart. Kasumi will give you detailed coordinates for the shuttle drop point. Comm me an hour before we enter Bekenstein orbit, we need a bit of time to get ready."

"Got it. Had a fun night, Commander? EDI was complaining about having to override the timer locks at 'odd hours'. Didn't know she'd actually care."

"It was a proper shore leave, no complaints there. Try not to piss Garrus off, though, he's probably a bit irritable today."

"You mean he'll bite my head off if I bump into him? I've always said, turians shouldn't be allowed alcohol..."

"Yep," Shepard grinned and left the cockpit.

* * *

_Early afternoon, 19th April 2185 CE, Normandy SR2, Main Battery_

The hum of the engines didn't bother him usually. He'd gotten used to noise serving on several ships and had learned to push it out of his mind, which made bunking in the batteries an attractive option. Nobody but Shepard came here. That was the reason he dared to sleep off his stupor properly for once, nobody would know and question about it.

He slowly opened his eyes, but pulled a pillow over his head with a groan. Even the battery's dim light was too much, too soon. Challenging Shepard had been the worst decision last night. He should have known he'd get to drink the horrible krogan poison, knowing his luck.

He pushed the pillow aside and forced his eyes open again. It hurt, but he'd just have to deal with it and get on with the work now that he'd got his rest. He got up and pulled a clean undersuit from his clothes pile to wear, before starting to put the pieces of his armour on. The clasps were proving surprisingly difficult to close today.

He made his way to the mess hall to grab something to drink. There was commotion and laughing and he winced at the sharp noises. A lot of the crew were gathered together and they seemed excited. As he got closer, he noticed Shepard and Kasumi standing in the middle, both dressed in what Garrus thought rather impractical clothing for a military ship.

"I don't know if this dress is really my thing... it's a bit on the skimpy side."

"Suits you just fine, Commander. Won't kill you to look like a woman once in a while!" the mess sergeant laughed

"You look great, Shep! Hock'll be so stunned he won't suspect a thing," Kasumi's voice chimed in.

"If you're seriously going to go there dressed like that, you should take a 'body guard' with you, Shepard. Let me come along," Garrus crossed arms over his chest, leaning on Gardner's desk.

"What's up with you, Mr. Vakarian? She's a big girl, she can take care of herself. Plus, this is a girls' night out," Kasumi winked at him. Garrus shook his head. Those two were impossible when they got into the mood.

* * *

**Early evening, 5th December 2166 CE, Settlement sector 7, Mindoir**

"Jane? Will you come and help me in the kitchen?" Edda called.

"In a moment! I want to see this vid..." she whined from the living room couch and turned the volume up. Mother was ordering her around, like always during holidays. She had to wear a stupid dress to make oma happy, and she had to do extra housework. But at least she'd get presents soon.

"Jane! Oma will be here any moment and I need to get the food ready!" she was getting irritated now. Something clanged in the kitchen and Jane sighed deeply.

"Okay okay, I'm coming," she slouched into the kitchen, "What do you need help with? It'll ruin my dress."

"No, it won't. Take the plates and go set the table," her mother handed Jane a pile of white porcelain plates and a box of silverware, and returned to stirring the herby potatoes cooking in a pan on the stovetop.

Jane was laying the last set of plate and utensils when the front door buzzed. She jumped and squealed with joy, running to the door to meet an elderly lady beaming at her. Her hair was graying, but she looked otherwise youthful and clearly paid attention to her appearance. She always smelled of the same perfume and that smell made Jane think of the times she'd played with oma's makeup box.

"Oma!" Jane wrapped her arms around her, and the gesture was returned.

"Prettige Sinterklaas, Jane!" Viviann released her and stepped in to the living room, carrying a bag filled with gift-wrapped boxes. "It smells wonderful here! What have you been cooking?"

Edda appeared from the kitchen, carrying a silver tray filled with potatoes, vegetables and a pile of sliced roast. She did another trip to the kitchen to fetch a bowl of sauce while Jane and Viviann took seats at the table.

"Danny will join us later. They had some trouble with the generators and he had to stay overtime. It's a shame, but better than leaving the entire sector dark for the holidays," Edda said. "Hopefully it won't take too long."

"I'm hungry. Can we eat yet?", Jane pleaded her mother. Edda was in her early forties, with dark hair and pale skin like Jane's. Exposure to the heavy sun of Mindoir's current season caused her skin to freckle over nose and cheeks.

"Jane, a little patience. Now, what do you say before eating?" Viviann crossed her hands on the table's edge and looked at her expectantly.

Jane's brow furrowed as she tried to remember. She only had to do this during the holidays, when oma was around. She crossed her hands, following example.

"Thank you, God for... the food and... Amen," she looked at Viviann sheepishly. "I don't remember it all."

"Thank you, God, for preparing this table before us," Viviann closed her eyes and took over, "Thank you for the bounty of the earth, which nourishes our bodies. Thank you for the abundance of your goodness, which sustains our lives when far away from home. Thank you for all we have received and all that is yet to come. Amen."

Jane glanced at her mother, who had not joined the prayer. She never did, but Jane had to for oma's sake. After what felt like an eternity to her, Vivian opened her eyes and smiled, motioning them to begin the meal. Jane didn't need to be told twice.

* * *

_Oma = grandmother_

_Sinterklaas = St Nicholas day, a holiday celebrated in western and central Europe. Traditions differ, but the Dutch give presents on 5th December._


	8. Inadequate

_I've not forgotten this story, but got slightly distracted by the others I've been writing. Thanks to that I noticed I've changed my style since writing the first chapters (hopefully to a better direction), and I think they really could use revising. That's something for the future, though. Until the story is finished, let the change in style be a diary of learning to write fiction. I'll put up a revised version of the whole story when it's time for the last chapter._

_Anyway, here's chapter eight. Hope you like it, even if it's a bit on the short side. If you'd like to read more about "my" turians, have a look at _Newcomers_. Comments/feedback/critique welcome, as always!_

* * *

_Evening, 19th April 2185 CE, Normandy SR2 Armoury_

"How many more left?" Garrus asked. He was unscrewing the sight of yet another Mantis sniper rifle for maintenance. The dismantled weapon's parts were carefully laid out on the table in front of him.

Taylor had asked him to help with weekly maintenance. Unfortunately, he didn't have an excuse to decline the request, so here he was, doing repetitive manual labour. Not that he minded the manual labour, it was meditative and took his mind off other things. The problem was, that Taylor was in a chatty mood and Garrus wasn't sure what to make of the Cerberus Officer's sudden interest in him.

"Too many. But hey, that's what you're here for, Vakarian! It'd take me ages to get the entire pile done by myself. Thanks, man." Jacob placed the parts of an assault rifle on the other table and picked up a rag and a canister of oil.

Dismantling weapons required nimble fingers and Garrus was working without the gloves he usually wore when dealing with other species. He didn't know how much Jacob had worked with turians previously, but judging by the look on his face he'd been a little unnerved by the sight of his talons as he'd removed the protective gloves. He took guilty pleasure out of knowing that, should the human try anything with him, he'd have the upper hand. Even if Taylor was a crew member and he trusted Shepard's judgment, he didn't trust the man.

"Not a problem, Taylor," he said and picked up his own rag to give the scope a good polish.

"What's the deal with that face paint, anyway? What I learned at history lessons was that your people's colony wars have been over for centuries."

"It's a tradition," he replied dryly and set the rag aside, beginning to reassemble the weapon. "You humans have a few as well, I understand."

They worked in silence for a moment, until Jacob broke it again. "You're from Palaven, right? I've seen other turians from Palaven with different paint."

"Correct," he said, finishing putting the rifle together and returned it to the shelf above. "Depends where you come from." He picked up another gun and began taking it apart.

"You've known the Commander for a long time, right?" Jacob initiated conversation again after a few minutes, having finished rubbing the rifle clean and tossed the rag on the table again. He didn't continue, clearly expecting Garrus to extrapolate.

"For a few years, if you count the two she spent in a Cerberus test tube."

"What's your thoughts on her?"

"She's a capable soldier and a good leader. I respect her. If anyone's going to get this job done, it's her." Rag, oil, rub. Repeat.

"Yeah. There's a four billion credit bet on her success." Jacob attached the last piece to the rifle he was holding and returned it to the rack. "But that's not what I meant. You know her on a personal level, too."

"She's a friend, yeah." His hands worked faster now, rubbing the rifle vigorously. "What's your point, Taylor?"

"She's been getting rather friendly with me. But you know, there's that Alenko guy. Hear they had a thing going on before the Commander got spaced."

_'Getting friendly' with Taylor?_

Garrus' hand froze, squeezing the weapon hard enough to feel his talons bend back painfully. "Your point being?" he repeated.

"Just wondering what's the deal with them two now."

_I bet you are._

"Right," he replied curtly and continued to polish the now very shiny length of the rifle. He noticed Jacob stare at him for a moment, but he didn't press the matter. Taylor was fishing for rumours and Garrus wasn't about to give up any.

They worked in uncomfortable silence for the next twenty minutes, taking a rifle apart, cleaning it and putting it back together. But even uncomfortable silence was better than Jacob's probing. He wondered if the entire purpose of bringing him here was to ask questions about Shepard. And what did he mean with 'Shepard getting friendly with him'? Was this a cultural misunderstanding thing and he was reading too much into Taylor's questions? Or had he misunderstood Shepard's intentions horribly?

_Maybe you're paranoid and he's just trying to be friendly._

_Come on, Garrus, why were you even thinking Shepard could be interested in you, a failure of a turian, when there's better men of her own species available?_

Garrus put the last rifle back to its place and gave Jacob a nod before exiting the armoury.

* * *

**Vernal equinox, 2166 CE, Isle of Rostum, Equatorial Cortus, Palaven**

"Don't! Stop it!" she screamed and ran away from the spray of water.

He grinned and ran after the smaller girl, aiming the irrigation hose at her back. The fun was short-lived; the flow of water ceased abruptly. Garrus stopped and looked around, puzzled. His father was approaching from the cottage, looking rather unamused. He dropped the hose to the ground, wincing and preparing for what was to come.

A smack on the ear. Another for good measure. His father's sharp talons scratched his softer plates and drew a little blood.

He ducked, hands flying up to cover his head. "I'm sorry, father! I'm sorry!"

"You should apologise to Solana, not to me. Now go," he ushered and Garrus nodded, running after the girl.

He stopped at the edge of the opening, looking at the tall and thick bushes separating the jungle from the lawn. Solana had ran this way but was nowhere to be seen now. He glanced behind and saw that his father had returned to the cottage. A small shuttle was just landing to the other side of the opening, next to three more vehicles, and soon four turians stepped out of it, heading towards the cottage, too.

"Sol! I'm sorry. Come on now, we have to go back."

The girl peeked her head from behind a large, tangled root and glared at him. She looked much like Garrus, her face and tiny fringe the same silver colour. Her face wasn't yet decorated with the blue markings of the colony, unlike Garrus', whose fresh tattoos were still a bit sore to touch. She emerged warily, keeping her eyes open for any tricks her brother might be up to and they walked back to the housing.

A wide table was set in the middle of the patio, surrounded by several plushy benches, enough to seat thirty people. It was decorated with a red tablecloth and various dishes were piled on trays and bowls: small blue eggs, preserved purplish meat sliced thinly and garnished with tiny red bulbs, larger green-and-white dotted eggs, several jugs of juice...

On the side table two silver-fringed women held down a large, squirming centipede. Another grabbed a sharp blade as wide as the creature, lifted it up and brought it down forcefully, slicing the creature in half with one strike. Its shell made a loud crunching noise and it stopped squirming, spraying out blue and white fluids. The women proceeded to slice the halves into equal pieces, placing them on metal trays after wiping off the excess blood.

Garrus and Solana watched the proceedings with wide eyes, glancing at each other at times. Tradition, the elders said it was. Garrus still didn't get the point of the ritual hunt and slaughter, but preferred the food they ate at home normally. It came in neat square packages and didn't involve getting one's clothes covered in goo.

The smell raising from the barbecue soon made him forget about the gory mess. The sun had finally set, as quickly as it rose every morning at this latitude, and the feast would begin. Despite the length of the day remaining almost the same throughout the year in Cortus, national traditions of celebrating springtime persisted because they brought the family together. Even Garrus' mostly absent father made sure to arrange his vacations from the C-Sec around turian national holidays, to gather at the extended family's leisure house on the island.

He waited patiently beside the table with Solana for the clan elders to take their seats, ogling the offerings hungrily. Many of the people seated he only saw during holidays; aunts, uncles, cousins and their spouses and children. Their mother arrived from the house, placing a hand on each child's shoulder and guiding them to their seats. He got himself a plateful of food and helped Solana get hers.

Next to Garrus sat his cousin Anteia, who was cradling a baby on her lap, conversing with the other young adults. The little one was fed tiny pieces of the catch from Anteia's portion. He wanted to try feeding the baby, too, but feared he'd do something wrong, maybe hurt the baby, and be punished again. He'd had enough of that for one day. Instead, he focused on wolfing down his own food.

"Little Garrus has come of age, I see," uncle Sino said to his father on the other side of the table. The mention of his name caught his attention, and he listened in.

"Wouldn't believe it by the way the rascal behaves," his father grunted, reaching for a jug of drink.

"A few more years before you need to start worrying, Nitus. Give him time."

Garrus reached for another helping and took the chance to glance at his father at the same time. He knew that face, the same disapproval he always had when talking to Garrus. The expression was there when he brought home good grades; father would always find room for improvement and tell this to Garrus without hesitation. His recent acceptance to the clan didn't go without his father complaining that Garrus wasn't ready to join for years to come, despite being of age. Mother would assure him that he did well, but Garrus wanted father's approval. He admired and worshiped Nitus Vakarian, the decorated C-Sec legend, and did his best to live up to his expectations. His best just wasn't good enough.

* * *

_Note: Centipede here doesn't refer to any particular earth animal, but is used to describe the creature's appearance only. :)_


End file.
